


Baala Lilies and Sunshine

by Patomac



Series: Writer's Month 2020 [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, F/M, Magic, Nobility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:40:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25680712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patomac/pseuds/Patomac
Summary: Phaelin walks into Callie's shop and doesn't recognize her. She makes him pay for it.
Relationships: OC/OC
Series: Writer's Month 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862173
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3
Collections: Writer's Month 2020





	Baala Lilies and Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> For Writer's Month 2020 Day 1: Flower Shop AU

The bells on the shop’s door jangled just as I clasped the root of a baala lily in my fist.

I bit back the urge to swear. Baala lilies were notoriously fragile—difficult to grow, and worse to replant. If I didn’t transplant the on in my hand right now, it would die on me.

I craned my head out the doorway. Sunlight flooded the showroom of the tiny flower shop, as it always did at this time of the morning. Against the glare, I could only make out the outline of the person standing in the doorway, letting the warm, humid air wash inwards.

I pasted a broad smile on my face. “I’ll be with you in just a minute.”

A grumble sounded from the doorway, but I didn’t have time to deal with it. I shook the lily gently, and dirt pattered onto my worktable. The roots it had obscured were a bright orange. They pulsed faintly in the dim light.

I frowned. I’d expected to see damage to the taproot, but it was still there, perfectly intact. I’d have to keep this specimen isolated from the others. Hope the infection, whatever it was, didn’t spread.

“Hello?” a voice called from the outside room. “Does anyone work here?”

“Be right there!” I called. Quickly, I pulled the pot I’d already prepared towards me and secured the little lily inside it. I tucked the soil around the pulsing roots, feeling them quiver slightly at my touch. I took half a second to spritz the whole thing with water—twice purified—before wiping my hands on my apron and turning towards the showroom.

I nearly missed a step when I first saw my customer. Phaelin Exetry stood in the cramped quarters of my shop. He wore the richly embroidered robes of the nobility, knee length and gossamer thin as a concession to the summer heat. His shoulders were hunched forward, and he was scowling something fierce at a cluster of bright red flowers occupying a glazed terracotta pot.

I’d last seen him six months ago, at Marin Sisin’s solstice ball. It hadn’t been a long acquaintance—a single dance, and then a drink on the darkened terrace. He’d dropped me in an instant when he realized that I was a charity case at the Academy and nothing more.

My face flamed at the memory. Goddess above, it was hotter than balls in here. I stepped behind the counter, discretely wiping the sweat from my brow. “How may I help you this morning?”

He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Are these the Goddess’ lilies?”

I kept my tone deliberately light. “They are.”

“What are they doing here? In a shop?”

“We grow them here.”

“Here? They only grow at the base of kimjin trees.”

“Usually,” I said.

He stared at me for a long moment. I waited for him to recognize me, but I guess without the ballgown, I was just another girl in a city full of them. His eyes swept over my dirt-stained apron and baggy pants.

“Is this your shop?” he asked.

“No. The proprietress goes on an extended holiday every summer. She hires me to keep the place up.”

“Then she grows the lilies?”

“We purchase most of our stock,” I said. I gestured at a wall covered in long-stemmed yellow flowers. “The daffodils are purchased from a farmer out in Granais. Our carnations come from Erida. Roses, of course, are grown all around the city. We’ve got nearly a dozen vendors for those.”

His brow furrowed. He stared at me for a moment longer than was strictly polite.

“Can I help you pick something out?” I prodded.

Phaelin seemed to shake himself. He glanced at the goddess lilies in the front window before turning towards our shop’s rainbow wall. Along it, cut flowers blossomed out of wooden containers, each connected to a tube with a lever to allow them the precise amount of water they needed to stay fresh. Two summers ago, when I’d first started working here, my mother and I had spent the better part of two months devising and constructing the system. The store’s owner, Seriala, had taken one look at it and promptly declared me her assistant for life.

“I’m looking for flowers for a young lady,” he said. “Something fashionable, but not generic.”

“I see. Does the lady in question have any preferences? Flowers? Colors?”

Phaelin pinched the bridge of his nose. “She wears a lot of orange lately.”

I hmmed as I stepped out from behind the counter. I walked over to the wall and selected a few blossoms. “Personally I’d go with a mixture of blooms then. Baala lilies as a showcase, set off with lionnis and caravis. I can dress it up with some greenery as well.”

He stared at the bouquet in my hand for a moment. Tentatively, he brushed the bright orange baala lily bloom with his finger. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen these before.”

“They’re quite uncommon,” I said. “They’re difficult to grow, and worse to transport. We only have them because I’ve managed to keep a crop alive for the past few years.”

Phaelin’s eyes found mine. “You have?”

I fought the urge to blush. “I do some planting when I work here. A few experiments here and there. The baala lilies are some of my favorites.”

Phaelin reached out to the bouquet. His fingertips brushed mine, and heat began to spread up my neck.

I ensured the bouquet was firmly clasped in Phaelin’s hand, and went to prop the shop door open. The mountain breeze was a welcome relief against my overheated skin, and I lingered there a moment more than was strictly proper.

When I turned back to the shop, Phaelin was watching me through hooded eyes. “You grow the goddess lilies, don’t you?”

I inclined my head in assent.

“I was led to believe that transplanting them from the sacred forests was impossible.”

“Not impossible,” I said. “Difficult.”

Phaelin’s eyes were still on my face. “You’d have to have powerful magic to even attempt such a thing.”

“Maybe.”

I wanted to turn my head, to look away, but for whatever reason, I couldn’t seem to manage it. Phaelin’s gaze held me spellbound, as much as any immobilization beam.

“Magic powerful enough to do that could get you admitted to the Academy,” he finally said.

A smile pulled at the corner of my lips. “Who said it hasn’t?”

Phaelin’s brow furrowed. He was about to say something when a man cleared his throat behind me.

I started and turned around to find my father standing in the street outside the door. He wore the smart red robes of the royal trade office along with a matching hat. An embroidered belt displaying the symbols of his house was wrapped around his waist. He clutched a loose, paper-wrapped parcel in one hand.

He glanced from me to Phaelin. “Is this a bad time?”

“Not if you’ve brought lunch,” I said. “Wait for me in the back?”

He raised an eyebrow, but nodded. I let him pass before me into the shop before crossing the store to resume my place behind the counter. Phaelin’s jaw was working, but when I held out my hand for the flowers, he handed them to me without a protest. 

I selected a few fern sprigs to balance out the bright oranges and yellows of the bouquet, and then tied them together in a paper roll. “Will that be all?”

Phaelin reached for his wallet. “That should do it.”

I quoted him an outrageous price, and he paid it without complaint. His eyes darted to the workroom’s door.

“That man… that’s Garalyn Trenchias, isn’t it?”

“Good eye,” I said, though it wasn’t. The Trenchias crest had been displayed prominently on my father’s belt.

I could almost see the battle warring in Phaelin’s head as he carefully folded his bills and pu them away.

Eventually curiosity won. “Is he a friend of yours?”

I bit back a laugh. “He’s my father.”

Phaelin’s head shot up. Suddenly all the mental math he’d been doing since he’d saw me seemed to click into place. “Calisto?”

I smiled and handed him the bouquet. “Guilty.”

He clutched it to his chest, and I had to stop myself from reminding him not to crush it. “We have met before! Why didn’t you say something?”

“And miss the expression on your face when you figured it out?”

The apples of Phaelin’s cheeks flushed a bright scarlet. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he said. “What are you doing working in a shop?”

“Earning a living,” I said.

He rolled his eyes. “Seriously.”

“I am serious,” I said. “Not all of us were born rich.”

“You’re a Trenchias.”

“Not officially.”

“You go to the Academy.”

“And tuition is expensive,” I said. I strode out from behind the counter. “As much fun as this has been, I have work to do. So if that’s all…”

Phaelin stared at me for a moment. Then, he nodded. “Thank you for the help,” he said on his way out the door.

“No trouble,” I said. “No trouble at all.”


End file.
